


Hey There Little Red Riding Hood

by uglywombat



Series: Hungry Like The Wolf [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU Steve Rogers, F/M, Lumberjack Steve Rogers, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Werewolf Lore, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: “Don’t venture into the forest after dark for you don’t know what lurks in the shadows.” Sometimes, mother knows best.





	Hey There Little Red Riding Hood

**Author's Note:**

> A Halloween Challenge for @barnesrogersvstheworld on Tumblr. The prompt was: An Inexplicable Feeling Of Being Watched

** _Don’t venture into the forest after dark for you don’t know what lurks in the shadows. _ **

Your late mother’s words poked at your wavering bravery as you skipped through the forest, trying to ignore the hammering of your heart against your chest. You wrapped your red cloak tightly around your chest, the thin, cotton providing you little protection from the icy chill in the air.

These woods were haunted by the souls of those who ventured from the light, or so the local stories told. Tales passed down from generation to generation, morphed and twisted in a convoluted game of telephone.

The glacial air bit at the exposed skin of your face as you delved deeper into the woods, the distant howling of a lone wolf stopping you in your tracks. 

What were you thinking? You shouldn’t have gone to Justin’s ridiculous Halloween party at the abandoned estate, shouldn’t have gotten into an argument with your boyfriend and you definitely shouldn’t have wandered off into the woods in a fit of rage. 

Your Little Red Riding Hood costume was ridiculously inappropriate for the frigid air, your thigh-high stockings providing little coverage to the ice-cold wind. 

You were a walking “come feed on me” sign, a literal walking target.

“Stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself as you took in your surroundings, or what little you could see in the darkness. The pathetic torch on your phone provided little light on the path ahead of you. “Get a grip Red, get your ass moving and get the fuck out of dodge,” you pep-whispered/moaned to yourself before edging forward.

The full-moon provided little light under the thick blanket of pine trees, adding to the already eerie feeling, the distant wolf howls, and your mother’s incessant warnings. 

You were a good girl. You had always heeded your mother’s advice, you obeyed the law. And yet, your alcohol-hindered brain had found you storming from the ‘haunted house’, Clint close on your tail for a mere nano-second as you stormed off into the woods. Clint Barton was a cheating dick.

And now, you found yourself wandering alone in the dark, scary woods trying to find your way back into town. 

A nearby snapping drew your attention over your shoulder, fear pricking at your gut as you tried to look into the darkness. Your skin tingles as the weight of the bleak night washed over you. 

Town-folk told stories of witches, goblins, trolls, and werewolves. The very notion of supernatural beings living in the woods was ridiculous, but at this very moment, the ridiculous was seeping into your crumbling facade. 

But now you found yourself imagining all sorts. Vampires emerging from the tree tops, demons slithering down the tall trees. 

This was possibly the worst decision you had ever made in your life, including dating self-proclaimed ladies man, Clint Barton.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching you closely as you made your way down the path through the woods, trickles of light from the full moon dancing along the path ahead.

It was eerily quiet, the pounding of your heart echoing through your vast surroundings, your breath painfully loud, the ice-like wind brushing your skin. 

Could the creatures of the night hear your fear? Could they smell the panic bubbling under the surface of your skin? 

The path was rocky and uneven under your feet, impeding your quick pace as panic began to set in, the sound of footsteps close by, leaves and twigs snapping in your periphery. 

And then you saw it, the dark, looming shadow of a wolf stalking you in the distance.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your heart pounding aggressively against your ribs, tears prickling your eyes. You were going to be eaten by a wolf. Was this the universe’s cruel sense of humour punishing you for entering the woods?

Now, you had seen your fair share of Deadliest Animals, and although you could remember the “under no circumstance, never ever run” rule, panic won over. 

You ran as fast as your frozen legs could carry you. Your cape flew behind you, rustling in the dark night. 

You didn’t know where you were as you veered off of the path and further into the forest. In your panic, you couldn’t pinpoint which way the town or the haunted house lay. 

Yes, leaving the party was officially the worst thing you have ever done. 

The sound of footfalls surrounded you as you pushed your way up the small rise in the ground. Your foot caught in a gnarled tree root sticking out of the ground, sending you spiraling to the ground. 

You could taste the copper before you felt the sting of the cut on your cheek, your ankle sprained. Or at least you guessed sprained as your medical training was limited to Grey’s Anatomy and House.

You pulled yourself up, literally shaking with adrenaline and fear. Your body burned with fear; your ankle and the alcohol slowing down your pace as you fought to breathe. 

You could have cried for joy as you spied the dimly lit cabin at the bottom of the hill, smoke rising from the chimney. 

Okay, yes, this could realistically have been the residence of Freddy Kruger or a Gacey-wannabe, but you were desperate, the sound of the approaching wolf like a ticking time bomb in your ear.

You dragged your ankle towards the little wooden cabin that reminded you of a fairytale or a fable from Hans Christian Andersen. 

The logical, sane part of your brain told you to steer clear of the creepy cabin and whatever lurked inside. However, your ever-winning flight instincts were instinctively pulling your legs towards the murder cabin.

A howl coupled with your anxious banging on the door echoed throughout the woods.

“Help! Please, somebody, let me in,” you cried out, slamming your fists against the secured wooden door.

The door opened to reveal a tall, dark blonde, azure-eyed, ripped Lumberjack god, his crotchety, almost animalistic gaze roaming down your body.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly, his arms crossing over his expansive, what you imagined to be ripped chest. “Little Red Riding Hood?”

“Please, I got lost in the woods and I’m being chased by a wolf.”

The plaid-wearing hunk raised an eyebrow as he took in your costumes. “You shouldn’t be out in the forest on your own, little girl,” the blonde sculpture snarled pulling you into his humble abode. 

And humble it was. The one-room cabin housed a military-neat double bed, a small, dated couch, a dining table, and a small kitchen. 

“Stupid girl, don’t you know what’s out there in the woods?” His deep, guttural voice tore through the comforting silence that had washed over you as you took in your surroundings. “Do you know what those beasts would do to someone like you?”

You turned to see the magnificently tall man leaning against the pillar separating the kitchen from where you stood. In his hands was a first aid kit. 

There was a darkness, a gruffness that cooled your blood. The crude way his eyes trailed over your tight white corset and scantily clad legs was scandalous, a rush of excitement swept over you as he licked his lips.

He motioned for you to come into the kitchen. You gave him an unsure look as he asked you to sit upon the kitchen bench. Despite your reservations, that familiar churning in your stomach, you felt the overwhelming need to obey. 

Obey? That was ridiculous. Why would you need to obey the incredibly attractive lumberjack who was a complete stranger?

“Now.”

The command, delivered in a gruff tone, sent a flutter of excitement through your harried nerves and you immediately complied. Your short skirt rode up your thighs, revealing your pebbled skin.

“This is a ridiculous outfit to wear into the woods,” the gruff god huffed as he undid the buckle of your heels and took them off. “You are a walking bullseye for the creatures that live in the forest, all the while, trespassing on my land. You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

He slowly stripped you of your thigh high socks and his hands gently picked up your ankle to examine the swelling.

You were embarrassed by the flush of regret that hummed through your veins. Why were you feeling like this? You didn’t know this man from Adam. And yet, your need to please him sang through your blood like an aria. 

What had been in those spiced cocktails you’d been downing all night?

“I didn’t know I was trespassing and I obviously wasn’t thinking,” you snapped, though your tone was forced in hope to dampen down the growing need to serve him. 

The sharp, pointed glare he gave you sent a chill down your spine and you immediately recognized the need to apologise. 

“I’m sorry, it’s been the night from hell, and not the Halloween kind,” you said quickly as he continued to examine your ankle. “I found my boyfriend making out with Barbie in the wine room and we had a fight and I stormed off. Before I knew it, I was lost and a wolf was chasing after me. Then I found your cabin.”

The man sighed and stood up tall. “Your ankle isn’t sprained but you should rest it for a while.” His dark blue eyes bore down on you as he examined the bleeding cut above your brow. “And your boyfriend is an idiot.”

You laughed, instantly wincing as his fingers brushed over the bloody cut. “My friends did warn me so I was kind of asking for it.”

Dark azure eyes held yours, big red pouty lips were drawn in a thin line as he stared at you. He said nothing as he wiped a damp cloth over the cut. You hissed at the sharp sting, a large hand caressing your bare thigh briefly. 

His woody, heady masculine scent was overwhelming as he leaned in closer, his hands gently cleaning the blood from your face. The room was intensely quiet save for the slow, measured breath caressing your skin and the thudding of your heart coupled with your own shaky breath.

Your eyes lingered over the sculpted muscles of his exposed arms, the way his muscles flexed as he worked. 

“Steve.” You looked up and his eyes held yours. “My name is Steve.”

You smiled shyly, all too aware of the light flutter of your heart and you told him his name. “Thank you for taking me in.”

He smirked as he placed the bandaid over your brow. “I could hardly leave a beautiful young woman to the wolves now could I?”

You felt the blood rush to your skin and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips. Wait, when did you ever giggle? By now, the alcohol had well and truly worn off thanks to your nature walk and run-in with the wolf. 

He caught your attention as his large hands came to rest on your thighs, his thumbs idly caressing your skin. Your blood burnt like boiling water as you felt his eyes roam over your exposed cleavage and legs. 

“It’s not every day a man stumbles upon his very own Little Red Riding Hood.” His voice was low and dark like molten tar as his fingers caress your face and down your body, his body so close to yours and yet too far.

“It’s not every day you meet a real-life Lumberjack,” you gasped as his hands slowly ascended your thighs. 

“Tell me you feel it,” he crooned in your ear as he scented your neck and hair, “this chemistry.” You nodded weakly, your mouth agape as his fingers brushed over your damp panties. “I knew the second I could smell you in my land that I had to have you.”

Now in your time, you’d had your fair share of boyfriends who had said some weird shit in bed. 

There had been Scott:  _ “That’s it, baby, ride me like your black stallion.” _

M’Baku:  _ “Come on my titties, rub your wet pussy all over my titties.” _

Justin: _ “Suck my pickle hard and I will buy you an Audi.” _ You never did get that Audi. 

And whilst Steve ranked high on the weird bedroom talk scale, your body screams for more. The overriding need for him to mark and claim you as his own was deafening to all the alarm bells ringing in your head. 

“Then have me,” you begged breathily as you fought with the buttons on his plaid button-down shirt. 

Steve made quick work of ripping your cheap, flimsy costume before pulling you down from the kitchen bench. You hissed as your swollen ankle jolted against the land but the pain was quickly forgotten as you spun you around and bent you over the bench. 

“Present yourself to me,” he growled as you heard him remove his clothes. 

You didn’t know what he meant by present yourself, but instinctively you arched your back and spread your legs. You could feel the cool air brush against your exposed folds as you looked through the window. 

A sea of yellow eyes lit the dark woods beyond the tree line. You were not afraid, though somewhere in your diminishing sensible reverie you knew you should.

You hummed as you felt Steve’s nose run along your neck, his tongue tasting the skin over your glands. 

“I’m going to make you mine,” he hummed, his hand gripping his cock and pressing his tip against your sopping entrance. “I need to hear you say it though. I need you to tell me that you’re mine.”

Your visceral reaction should have been to get the hell out of Dodge and take your chances with the wolves. You didn’t belong to any man. You were an independent woman, you had your own apartment, you worked your ass off and you didn’t need a man. Beyonce would be proud. Right?

Unless of course, she walked in right now to see you bent over the kitchen bench, your ass high in the air presenting yourself for this Alpha lumberjack and begging for him to claim you as his own. 

In one swift motion, Steve drove his cock into you, a hand gripping onto your displayed ass, squeezing your cheek as his other hand wrapped around your throat, his thumb pressing against the skin around your glands. 

It was a literal red-flag flapping in front of your face, but as he began to drive his cock in and out of your dripping pussy, it was all completely forgotten. Your fears and worries were extinguished as his lips fussed over your overheated skin. 

“That’s it, my sweet little wolf, please your Alpha,” Steve growled, his cock dragging along your walls, his words washing over you like warm water. “You are perfect, you were made for me.”

You wailed as his deft fingers found your clit and he slowly teased you. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, surrounded by his heady, woody scent, the blazing heat from his body surprisingly comforting. 

The hand that had been gripping and bruising your ass slowly ascended the curve of your hip and waist before coming to rest on your breast, his fingers pinching and teasing your nipple. 

Steve mouthed at your neck, his tongue dragging along your skin as his cock brushed along around your g-spot. From your mouth, a flurry of expletives and mewls escaped as he expertly dragged his cock along your g-spot. 

For a man who lived alone in the woods, or at least you assumed he lived alone, he was so intuned with your body it was frightening. 

“I want you to come all over my cock, my sweet little wolf,” he said huskily before brushing his teeth along your jaw, “I want to feel you squeeze me. I’m going to come in you, bite you and make you mine.”

You shuddered as his molten words brushed over your scalding, sensitive skin. It was as though each and every pore on your body was alight and smoking as he latched onto the skin over your glands. 

“Make me yours.” The words escaped your lips before they had even crossed your mind, your hands gripping his brawny forearms. 

A sharp pain ripped through your neck as your felt his teeth breach your skin before his tongue lathed at the wound, his hot, conciliating voice washing over you like a rush of intense heat rushed through your veins, his intoxicating scent overpowering you. 

You careened towards your orgasm as Steve’s carnal groans and grunts encouraged your mewls and whimpers. 

“Let me hear you, little wolf,” he groaned, his fingers twisting your nipple and his tongue returned to the bite mark on your neck. The pain was completely gone. 

You came with a cry and Steve instantly claimed your mouth with his for the first time that night. Your walls clenched around his cock, your body shuddering as his fingers were unceasing against your clit. 

“Mine, mine,” he chanted over and over again placing both his hands on your ass. In the reflection you could see his eyes lock on yours as he fucked you harder, chasing his own release.

In the periphery, in the darkness of the woods, you could see the sea of yellow eyes draw closer as Steve howled, spilling deep inside you, his teeth once again latching onto your wound. 

His hands were unabating as you collapsed against the kitchen bench, suddenly feeling drained and at a loss as Steve pulled out of you, his hands roaming over your sensitive, simmering skin. 

Gently, Steve pulled you around to face him, his lips tenderly pressing against yours as his thumb slowly caressed the bite mark on your neck. 

“Mine.” 

You could only nod, your body screaming to be held and comforted by the large, boorish man. You found comfort as he slowly dressed you in his plaid shirt, large enough to cover your behind, Steve gently helping you into your panties. 

Steve held out in his hand and you obediently took it, allowing him to lead you through the cabin and outside into the bitterly cold night air. 

You froze as you were met with the sight you feared most. Surrounding the cabin were hundreds of big wolves. 

“Say hello to your new family.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Pretty please leave a comment! They are air and water and sunflowers.


End file.
